Duckling
by So Much Tea
Summary: Killian Jones knows whenever Emma's time of month is due. He's marked it on his calendar so he can buy her chocolates, flowers and tissues whenever that time comes along. Now, he doesn't need to look at his calendar anymore. He just knows. So when Killian turns up at their house with a box of chocolates, Emma has to question why he's on time but her period isn't.
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt** : _Emma is on her period._

 **Summary:** _Killian Jones knows whenever Emma's time of month is due. He's marked it on his calendar so he can buy her chocolates, flowers and tissues whenever that time comes along. Now, he doesn't need to look at his calendar anymore. He just knows. So when Killian turns up at their house with a box of chocolates, Emma has to question why he's on time but her period isn't._

 **Author's notes:** _I thought I'd do this one with a little twist. Hope you enjoy!_

Duckling

Emma sits in the sheriff's station with David. They've been sat there for a few hours now, not doing much, just talking and laughing, waiting for someone to phone in or something to happen.

David's just returned from Granny's, with a sizeable box of doughnuts in his hands. She's not sure whether he wants the doughnuts, or a change of scenery. The station walls are beginning to look really annoying after staring at them all morning.

He passes over the box of doughnuts and she steals one, taking a big bite out of it. The doughnut tastes delicious, all strawberry icing and sprinkles, but she can't quite enjoy it. She frowns as she chews and swallows, the motions almost robotic.

"Nice doughnuts," David comments through his own mouthful.

Emma hums, but she's not really listening. She's staring into space, eyes glassy and unfocused.

David places his doughnut down on a napkin with a sigh. "Emma, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Emma asks, coming back to life. She glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You've not been yourself all morning. What is it?"

She takes another bite of the doughnut and chews thoughtfully before she answers. "Okay, here's the thing. I'm bored."

Surprise flashes across his face. "Bored?"

"For months I've been waiting for something interesting to happen. Anything. I've been waiting for another Snow Queen or a Wicked Witch but nothing's happened! There's been no threat."

David laughs a little, shaking his head. "And you want a threat?"

"Oh, no. Of course not." Another bite is savoured. "But it's making me uneasy. I half expect something to jump out at us. But nothing has."

"Emma," David says. He's smiling. "You deserve a break. We all do. Especially after what happened in the Underworld."

"Usually our breaks don't last this long."

"Can't help but think you're right about that." This time, his laugh is wary. "But enjoy it while you can."

"Yeah." She picks up another doughnut and takes a bite out of it.

"Whoa, two doughnuts in a row. Are you feeling okay?"

Emma stares at her father and then at the doughnut. "Fine." She places the half-eaten doughnut down on the napkin. "Guess they're just good."

Silence falls between them. Emma stares at the phone, willing it to ring. She can't help but feel restless. Crime is down to an all time low in Storybrooke, and Emma doesn't have another job.

Don't get her wrong, she'd much rather be with Killian, but Emma doesn't want to crowd him. Now they're living together in that huge white house, she knows she shouldn't be spending too much time with him. She doesn't think she could ever get sick of him (considering all they've been through), but even the littlest of things annoys Emma. Even now, she prays she won't go home to find he's left shoes lying about, or hair in the shower plug. Ew.

"Why don't you go home?" David asks.

Emma presses her lips together in a tight line. She's been hoping he wouldn't ask her that. "But what will you do?"

David smiles and it's sheepish. "Actually…" He folds his arms, leaning back on his chair. "I was hoping to go home too. Me and Mary Margaret haven't had a lot of time alone since our baby Neal, and the Underworld so…"

She's quick to interrupt. "Stop talking now. Too much information."

"I was going to say watch a movie."

"Sure," she says as she stands. She grabs her leather jacket which is draped over the back of her chair, and pulls it on. Warmth and that familiar leathery smell envelope her. "Will you lock up?"

David closes the lid of the doughnut box. "Do I have a choice?"

She chucks her own half-eaten doughnut in the bin. "Nope. Catch you later."

With that, she makes her way down the corridor and outside. The air is bitterly cold, and so she runs the zip of her jacket up to her throat. Gloves are pulled from her pocket and she slips them on, wishing she brought her scarf. Or a warmer coat, at least.

The pavement is covered by a thin sheet of ice and so she steps carefully. It's difficult not to fall over in her heeled boots but somehow she manages to reach her house without any incident, not even a little slip.

"Emma Swan, you are a pro," she mumbles to herself as she unlocks the door. She's sure Killian will be home, but they always lock the door just in case, even when they're both in the house. Crazy psycho wicked witches will do that to you.

"Killian?" She calls as she steps inside. The warmth hits her like a blessing.

"In here, love!" Killian calls from the kitchen.

Emma removes her jacket and hangs it up on a peg. She slides her gloves off as she enters the kitchen. The orange lights feel even more homely after staring at the miserable, grey sky.

Killian is stood at the counter, sprinkling cinnamon on a mug of what looks like hot chocolate. He wears black jeans, and his black waistcoat over a midnight blue shirt. Emma can't help but smile. She's always loved that outfit, even if she's never told him. Blue suits him.

He turns and holds the mug out to her. Her own hands wrap around the steaming chocolate and she brings it up to her nose, breathing in the scent of it. It smells delicious, and exactly what she needs on a bitter, winter's day.

"How did you know I was coming?" she asks as she stands and inhales.

He leans against the counter with an easy grin. "Your father kindly sent me one of those text things letting me know. You'll be proud of me, love: I think I managed to send one back."

"Ha," she says with a smile. "I'll have to see it to believe it."

"Your faith outstands me," he says, but there is a twinkle in those blue eyes. "Come on into the living room. You'll find it's warmer."

"I noticed you put the heating on," she comments as she follows him out the door, hands still wrapped around the mug. God, she sounds so domestic. She's not sure whether she likes that or not.

"That I did. It only took me a good few hours to work out how to do it."

They both take a seat on the sofa. Emma leans back onto it, loving how she sinks into the cushions. She's never felt more at home in her life, she realises as she glances over at Killian. "What else did you do today?"

He throws his arm around the back of the sofa. "Nothing much, actually," he says with a frown. A hand comes up to scratch the scruff of his chin.

"Oh."

And then his face falls into a smile. "But you know what, Swan? I'm glad. I remember a time when I'd be awake at the crack of dawn, sailing away on my ship, trying to find home."

"Now you don't need to look for home?" She doesn't know why she phrases it as a question. Perhaps it's her own insecurities coming through. Even though Killian has - countless times - explained that he'd rather be with her than sailing his ship, she's not so sure. Sailing is a part of him. It will always be a part of him.

"Aye." That twinkle has returned.

"So you did absolutely nothing, then? Not a thing?" She blows on her chocolate.

"Alas, you've caught me. I tell a lie. I visited the shops."

Emma has to choke back a laugh. " _You_ went shopping? How did you carry everything? You only have one hand."

"You'd be surprised by how many shopping bags a hook holds. It's rather a lot."

"Hm." She's still smiling as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate. It's perfect; just the right balance of water, milk and cream. The cinnamon is spot on too. She really must give Killian more credit.

"I think you'll find the cupboards to your utmost liking. They're fully stocked."

She shakes her head at how proud he seems. "Thanks, Killian."

"Oh, and I-" He lowers his voice a little. "And I think you'll find the _bathroom_ cupboards fully stocked as well, if you understand."

Emma frowns. "What?" Bathroom cupboards? What for?

"You know. With your… you know."

She places her hot chocolate on the coffee table. "Sorry?"

He softly smooths the crease between her eyebrows with his thumb. "Relax, love. I am merely referring to your time of month." A gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Oh! Oh…" Emma bites her lip, tucking her hair behind her ear. A short pause later: "What's the date?"

"The seventeenth."

"Huh."

Killian frowns at her troubled expression. "Your heart seems uneasy."

"No, it's fine." She tries to give him a smile. "Thank you for that."

Killian doesn't return her smile. His face has that serious expression reserved for conversations of Rumplestiltskin or his past. "Emma, are you okay?"

The thing is, Emma isn't exactly sure. It's unlike her to be late; she only has been a few times in her life. Her usual time is around the fifteenth and sixteenth, sometimes even before that. But it's never the seventeenth. Not really. Still, one day late is nothing to worry about.

She smiles at him again, and this time it's genuine. "I'm fine. Come on, let's go out to dinner. Granny's. I'll pay; my treat."

He seems to relax a little at that. "Excellent, Swan."

Yes, one day isn't anything to worry about. She needn't worry him with her concerns. In fact, she needn't worry about it herself.

Right?

…

The eighteenth comes and goes and Emma remains in the same situation she was previously. The nineteenth passes by and when the twentieth does too, she starts to feel a little anxious.

And so she does the only thing she can think of; she ignores it. She pushes her worries aside and tries to focus on other things. It's hard, especially since they don't have any threats lurking around. She's praying for a Snow Queen Take Two so she can at least have something to distract her.

But life just isn't going to give her that luxury.

And so she sits, staring at the walls, wondering what the hell she is going to do. She can't be… But what if she is? No, she _can't._ Her and Killian, they haven't... Well, they _have_ but…

Her and Killian have been intimate a lot, especially since returning from the Underworld. But they always use… No. Apart from one time, a few weeks ago. But it was fine. Emma had taken the morning after pill, so it should be fine.

 _But it doesn't always work like that,_ says a small voice in her head. They're not always accurate. Not any contraceptive method is a _hundred_ percent accurate.

Emma swallows and wraps her arms around herself. What if she is? She dreads to think what Killian will say. He has never mentioned to her about having children, nor did he have any with Milah, and so she's come to assume that he doesn't want any.

And that's fine with her. She doesn't want any either. She's happy with Henry. There's a lot of regret with Henry, but it's okay. She loves him, more than her own life, and he's enough for her. She doesn't want another baby. In fact, the possibility fills her with such dread, her head starts to swim and suddenly she can't breathe.

She takes in gulps of air, trying to calm herself.

She needs to take a test. She knows she does, but she can't bring herself to do it. Taking a test will make it real and Emma wants to deny it as much as possible. She does not want another kid.

An escaping tear causes her to press the heels of her hands to her eyes. _Don't cry_ , she thinks. _Please don't cry. It's fine._

"Emma?" Calls a voice from downstairs. Killian's voice.

She sits up straight, removing her hands from her eyes, heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah?"

"Just checking you were here, love," he shouts. "I'll put tea on."

Tea? _Tea_? Oh, he means dinner.

She takes in some more air and manages to slow her breathing. To her utter relief, her eyes are dry, if a little sad. She rises from the bed, and adjusts her clothing. When she goes to greet Killian, she's exactly herself. No need to worry him.

…

"Emma?" Pound, pound, pound on the bathroom door. "Emma, what's up? Are you okay?"

She sits with her head in her hands in the Sheriff station bathroom. The floor is cold and unforgiving underneath her, but that's the least of her worries.

She hasn't been sick for a while, not properly sick. Years, even. Not since she was learning how to cook and giving herself food poisoning every other week. And she's eaten nothing to _make_ her sick. Killian cooked dinner the night before, and everything was done to perfection. If it's to do with his cooking, surely he'd be ill too? He seemed fine when she left him this morning.

Her stomach is still heaving, and her breathing is coming out in sharp gasps, but she thinks the worst of it is over.

"Emma?"

She tries to calm her herself, but this time, it doesn't work. She's just gasping for more air, her head leaning against the wall. She tries to stand, but her legs are shaky, and so she collapses back onto the floor. She presses a weak hand to her hot forehead.

"Emma, answer me dammit." David's voice is a shout now, but she ignores it, hoping he'll go away. She knows he won't.

Pound, pound, pound. " _I'm coming in_."

Emma makes no attempt to move as the door flies open. She looks up at her father through dark shadowed eyes as he stands over her. Upon seeing the state she's in, he crouches down to her level and places a hand on her arm.

"Emma?" he asks, taken aback. He's never seen her like this before. "You look awful, what's wrong?"

She simply gives him a feeble smile. "I think I need my mom."

…

"How many days are you late?" Mary Margaret asks as she places a cup of hot chocolate in front of Emma, and sits down at the kitchen table. She watches her with moon-like eyes, but they're not judgemental or troubled. They offer nothing but comfort.

Emma wraps her hands around the hot chocolate. "About a week."

"And you think you…"

"What else could it be?" She asks, staring down into the mug. Cream is beginning to melt, creating a white puddle on the top of her drink.

Mary Margaret folds her hands in front of her as she thinks for a moment. "Apart from sickness, have you had any other symptoms?"

"I had a second doughnut the other day. David commented on it."

She raises her eyebrows. "I'm sure that doesn't mean anything." She takes a generous sip of her own hot chocolate. "Any headaches? Tenderness? Mood swings?"

"Yes, but I always get them during my period."

Silence falls upon them again, as they drink their hot chocolate. Emma's eyes move to the window. Rain trickles down the glass, creating little patterns on the surface. She can just make out the sky; a consistent grey. It casts dark shadows in Mary Margaret's usually warm apartment.

"I think…" she begins in that soft, comforting voice of hers. "Wait a week and then take a test."

Emma's stomach flips, and not in the good way. She does not want to take a test. But what is she hoping for, really? That she can just brush it off? That was never going to be the case.

"Can't I take one today? Or tomorrow?"

"You could," Mary Margaret frowns. "But it doesn't always show up so soon. If you take one now and it shows as negative, you'll just have to buy one next week. Double the money."

Emma nods, convinced. Her mother has a good point. She needn't do one now.

"What… what do I tell Killian?"

Mary Margaret's response is instant. "You tell him the truth."

Something tightens in her chest, as if she has a heavy object there. She feels the weight of it. "How can I?" she says. Panic returns. "What if he doesn't want this? What if -"

"Emma," she interrupts, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's arm. "Killian loves you."

"I know," she swallows. "But what if he doesn't want… this."

The shaking of her head is followed by a smile. "I'm sure that's not the case at all."

"But what-"

"Do you want this?" Once again, there isn't any judgement in her voice. Only concern and a gentleness that's always present with her mother. Her eyes mirror that same softness, and Emma chooses to answer honestly.

"I don't know."

She watches her for a moment, studying her daughter's face; those lines on her forehead, and the way her eyes have that shining, worried look. And then she says: "Go talk to him, Emma. He'll want to know. He deserves to."

Emma nods and finishes her hot chocolate. Mutely, she stands. There's a numbness spreading throughout her; from her heart to the rest of her body, right to the very tips of her fingers. Can she do this? Can she tell Killian?

Mary Margaret stands with her and pulls her into a tight hug. "It's going to be fine, Emma," she murmurs into her hair. "Having a baby is a _wonderful_ thing. Remember, he loves you."

Emma nods, and mutters a goodbye. She leaves her mother and makes her way down the apartment stairs, pulling her gloves from her pocket. As she slips them on, she can't help but feel like she isn't the one wearing them. Like she's separate from her body. Like it's a stranger to her.

She's just putting the key in her door, when she hears a voice behind her: "Swan!"

She turns so fast, her hair whips her shoulder. Killian is running up to her, carrying a shopping bag on his hook. It swings back and forth as he runs. Emma is amazed he hasn't fallen over on the ice yet.

"Emma," he breathes out when he reaches her.

She manages to force a smile. "More shopping, huh?"

He holds up the bag, a triumphant grin lighting his face. "This isn't any old shopping, Swan."

"Oh, right." She folds her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. He looks so happy, that for a moment her worries are forgotten.

"This is _Emma_ orientated shopping."

"Emma orientated shopping, huh?"

"Aye." He holds out the bag, still smiling. "Go on inside. I'll show you what I've got."

Emma does as he tells her, and holds the door open for him. Once they're both in the warmth of the kitchen, he places the bag on the table and gestures for Emma to peer inside. She gives him a frown before opening the bag, material smooth under her fingertips.

Inside, she finds the most chocolate she's ever seen in her life. Boxes and bars and packets of the gloriously rich sweet. He's picked all her favourites. Mouth open, she turns the bag upside down and tips everything out onto the table. When she glances over at him, a question on her lips, he speaks.

"You've not been yourself these last few days." he explains, with a soft smile. "I take it it's to do with your… monthly occurrence. I thought perhaps some chocolate would lift your spirits."

"This is more than _some_."

"Swan, are you okay? You're awfully pale."

Emma tries to smile, she really does, but she knows it must come across as unwilling. She places a cold hand to her neck, and her skin feels hot. Really hot. Her stomach is heaving again, and she wills herself not to throw up. Not while he's here.

"I'm fine," she tells him. "I just remembered something I forgot to do at the Sheriff's station." She makes to move past him, but he catches her wrist with his hook.

"Swan - Emma." He pulls her gently towards him. "Regardless of what you may think, I am actually quite perceptive. Now tell me. What's wrong?"

She looks up into those blue eyes and pleads with her own. "Later."

He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opens them again, he drops her arm and gives her a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Go. Do what you have to."

She gives him one last pleading look before running out the door, slamming it behind her. Strings of guilt tug at a heavy heart. She knows she's worrying him, but she's not ready to tell him yet. _Way to go, Emma,_ she thinks to herself. _You can battle monsters and magic but run a mile when it comes to a baby._

She makes her way down the street, but doesn't take the turning to the Sheriff's station. Instead, she turns right, where the corner shop is.

A beat later and she's walking inside. As subtly as she can, she looks around to make sure no-one she knows is here. She shudders to think what would happen if she ran into someone like Grumpy. The whole town would know within minutes.

When the coast is clear, she snatches a pregnancy test. She pays for it quickly, and shoves it in her pocket.

...

The moment she steps through the door of her house, she's running upstairs and into the bathroom. Killian is downstairs, and he's probably heard her, so she tries to be as quick as possible. After closing the door behind her, she falls onto the tiled floor, brushing pale strands of hair from her face. She snatches the test from her pocket and fumbles with the flap on the side, willing it to open.

At that moment, another wave of nausea hits her. The position of the toilet is a blessing, and the test slips from her nimble fingers onto the floor.

It's then that Killian chooses to knock on the bathroom door.

She curses everything; herself for buying a test when her mother told her to wait, her mother for convincing her to take a test in the first place, the sickness choosing _now_ to make its grand return, and Killian Jones for being so damn concerned all the time. Why can't he just leave her be?

"Emma?" he asks. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she calls back.

Something in her voice must be alarming, because he calls, "Let me in." When she doesn't answer, he speaks again. "I'm coming in." His voice is demanding, more like the pirate she fell for.

 _Please God, no_ , she thinks. She quickly brushes away tears and reaches for the test, but before she can, the door opens and he's stood over her. She hates herself for not locking the stupid door.

For a moment, his face is confused. Confusion turns to worry when he catches sight of her face. "Emma, what the hell is-" Then he freezes. His face pales. She follows his gaze right to where she knows it will be. To the test.

"Bloody hell," he hisses out.

For a moment, he stands there and she sits, both in silence. She can almost _hear_ him processing what's before him, putting two and two together. His hand clenches into a fist and then unclenches again. If it weren't for that movement, he'd look like a statue.

Then he seems to come to his senses. Almost hesitantly, he kneels down to her level, and looks her straight in the eyes, brushing hair from her face. She doesn't say anything, simply looking back. And then he scoops his arms under her body and picks her up, as carefully as he can. His boots sound heavy against the floor as he makes his way out the bathroom.

He takes her into their bedroom, and lays her gingerly on the bed. When he sits down, she can feel the mattress dip, but she doesn't look at him. She can't.

"Swan," he says gently. She ignores him, turning her attention to the window. The grey clouds are beginning to fade. Blue and sunshine breaks through them. She watches as a thin strip of sunlight travels across the floor.

"Emma, look at me."

Slowly, she turns to him. It takes all the courage she can muster. This is what she's been afraid of. She doesn't want to see his expression. What if he doesn't want this?

His eyes hold nothing but love and comfort. They're watching her face, flickering over her features. And then he meets her eyes. When he speaks, it's soft. "You know, it's bad form not to tell a man you're expecting his child."

She sits up on the bed, slowly. Her head feels heavy on her shoulders. There's a lump in her throat that only increases with every passing second. "I'm… sorry."

"I hope you know I would've worked it out sooner or later. As I said earlier, I'm actually quite perceptive."

"I haven't taken a test yet," she says.

He merely raises an eyebrow at her. "And yet, you still should have told me. It's my job to share your burdens, so they do not weigh quite as heavy on your shoulders."

"I was afraid of what you'd think."

He shakes his head. "What could I possibly think?"

Her eyes are large. Full of sadness. "You might not want a baby." He opens his mouth to speak but she rushes on: "We've only just moved in together. And after _everything_ that's happened… The Underworld, everything. I don't… I couldn't… What if you… And you never had kids with Milah or-"

" _Emma."_ He interrupts. "If you haven't taken a test, how can you be sure?"

"I'm not," Emma tells him. "But sickness, a missed period..." She debates whether she should tell him about how she had a second doughnut with David, but decides against it. Just thinking the words sounds stupid.

"Aye. Sounds like it." There's a pause. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I'm not ill," she says, suddenly angry. Why hasn't he addressed her worries? Why has he left her with these concerns out in the open? It isn't like him. Usually, he is so honest with her. Perhaps, she is right, and he doesn't want a baby.

"Aye," he repeats. There's a distant look in his eye. "I'm going to spend some time on my ship."

He stands, the sound of springs echoing across the room as the mattress moves back into place.

She opens her mouth to tell him to stay, to tell them they need to talk about it, but she stops herself. If she needed her space, he would give it to her. And so she simply says, "Okay."

Off he goes, out the door. She sits there for a moment, in silence. Her arms fold around her stomach. If Killian's not sure what he wants (he who always knows what he wants) then how can she be? If she doesn't have his support, what is she to do? He's acting exactly how she imagines him to, and it scares her. Terrifies her.

But Emma has never been one to sit and feel sorry for herself. And so she stands, calms herself and makes her way into the bathroom to take a test.

…

It's hours before Killian returns. The sky is dark, and Emma can make out the moon, full and bright. She imagines him sailing on the open water, underneath Luna's rich glow, and she wishes she is there with him.

When she hears the front door open, she moves to the hallway. He enters, shaking rain from his leather coat. He spots her, and his face has an expression she can't quite make out. Shame?

"Emma, I…" he begins, but shakes his head, as if he doesn't know how to continue. Yes, it is shame. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter," she says. It doesn't. Not anymore.

"No. It does." He takes slow steps towards her until he is right in front of her. His eyes search hers. "I acted appallingly. But if you'll let me, I'd like to explain."

"Killian, it really doesn't matter." Her eyes spot a water droplet on his leather jacket. "Come on, you must be cold."

She turns towards the sofa, but he catches her with his hook and turns her back. "Let me speak. Just let me speak."

She opens her mouth to protest because it _really_ doesn't matter anymore, but he holds his hand up to silence her. The rings sparkle in the light, but not as much as his eyes, which are intense. More intense than she's ever seen them.

"When I was merely a boy, my father abandoned my brother and I. As you know."

"I do, but I don't see-"

"As a lad, I always wondered why. What I had done to warrant such… cruelty." He swallows, and scratches the back of his neck. She knows he must be thinking about what he did to his father. "A child should never be made to feel like that. And you are aware of what I… did to my father. In revenge. As a villain." His eyes drop away from hers.

A soft sigh escapes her lips. "Killian, you're not that man anymore." She places a hand on his arm.

"Perhaps not. But when I dipped back into that darkness again, when I became a Dark One-" He winces a little at that. "I allowed darkness to overtake me, almost at once. I didn't fight. I couldn't." His eyes meet hers again, and there's a hardness in them. "I don't deserve you. I never have. All the pain I've caused, all the lives I've destroyed…"

"Killian-"

He takes one hand with his. "No, I don't deserve you. But Emma, I want to be the man you _do_ deserve." He pauses, and his chest rises and falls in a sigh. "I want to be the man our child deserves."

Her stomach drops. Her hands feel limp and cold in his, even against his hook. "Killian, I-"

He continues, ignoring her protests. "The reason Milah and I never had a child was because of Baelfire. She felt guilty for leaving him, and she felt it was unfair of her. She wanted to go back for him, and we planned to, but alas, we never did." His hand moves up to stroke her cheek. "But the truth is, I want a child. I have always wanted a child."

Her eyes fill with tears, and she wills them not to fall. "Killian, please."

Suddenly, his hand moves away from her face and dips into the pocket of his leather jacket. She watches as he pulls out something small and brown. It takes her a moment to realise what it is, but when she does, the tears do indeed fall.

A bear. A tiny, stuffed bear wearing a pirate hat. Little holes have been cut in the hat for its ears to stick out.

He presses it into her hands. "For the little one." She takes it, if weakly. "I'm going to be here for you, Swan. Don't cry, love. I'm here now. I should have said that the moment you told me," he continues. "Perhaps I was afraid, but I'm not anymore. This future, I… I want it. With you."

She strokes the bear's soft ears. "Killian."

"After everything we've been through, we deserve a little happiness. Aye, we may have bumpy seas ahead of us, but the sun will be shining and I-"

"Killian. I'm not pregnant."

He falls silent. She dare not look at him and so she keeps her eyes on the bear. A few tears fall onto the fur, but she ignores it. She can't look at him. She _can't._ Her voice is harsh. Cutting. "I'm sorry."

His voice is quiet. "No, Swan. Don't apologise."

They both stand there, Emma refusing to look at him, and Killian frozen to the spot. And then: "You're… sure?"

"My period was just late," she says, a little bitterly. "I found out when I went to take the damn test."

"And the sickness?"

"Stomach bug."

A pause.

She doesn't hear him move, but she feels his arms wrap around her, encircling her in leather and warmth. She buries her head in his shoulder. The scent of sea salt clings to his skin, but she doesn't mind.

"The thing is," she says into his neck. "I didn't want another kid. I have Henry. I didn't want one."

He strokes her hair. "Then there isn't a problem."

"I didn't want one until I thought I had one."

His arms tighten around her in response, but he doesn't speak. He simply holds her close. She doesn't know how long they stand there like that, but by the time they part, the rainwater on his jacket has dried.

…

A few weeks pass, and Emma is back to her usual self. Killian hasn't breached the subject, even though she wishes he will. Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt her. Or push her.

At first she mourns the baby. The little bundle who hadn't even existed, but then Snow Queen Take Two appears and she's back to business. The villain is pathetic. But maybe that's because after meeting Hades, every villain is a little pathetic.

She figures out their plan within a few days and takes them out within a week. She's certainly back on form.

When Snow Queen Take Two comes and goes, she thinks the restless feeling she mentioned to David those weeks ago will go. But it doesn't. Only when she stumbles across that stupid bear again, does she realise why.

She's not yearning for danger. Not at all.

The feeling hasn't been there since the Underworld. It's been there since Killian started mentioning about their future together. The white picket fence. The big house. Enough room for a third person.

Henry is enough, yes, to a certain extent. But she's missed it all; his first steps, those early years she should have been spent soothing fevers and drying tears. She wonders what he was like as a baby - whether he cried a lot, and how fussy he was with his food. She's never asked Regina, nor does she want to. Whenever Emma thinks about baby Henry, all she can feel is guilt, even though she believes she made the right decision giving him up.

And so when Killian comes in from his ship, she's sat at the kitchen table, waiting for him. She holds the bear in her hands and once again, finds herself stroking those ears. Those tiny, soft ears.

She hears his boots against the wooden floor before she sees him. "Swan?" And then he spots her, sat at the table. His eyes immediately fall to the bear in her hands. "Emma…?" He raises his eyebrows.

"How would you feel about a baby Swan?"

He laughs, and it's glorious; booming and happy, reaching his eyes. "You mean a duckling, love?"

She releases a breath she doesn't realise she's been holding. "A baby swan is _not_ called a duckling."

"Technicalities." He shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over one of the chairs. He's still smiling.

"Killian?"

"Mm?"

"Now."

His head snaps over to meet her gaze. "Now?" His eyes are wide, a thin rim of blue around black pupils.

"Right now."

He takes slow steps towards her until he's standing over her. She looks up at him, heart fluttering in her chest. He brushes a strand of hair from her face. "And you really want this?"

She nods, eyes never leaving his. He considers this for a moment, watching her face. She wonders if he's making sure she's being serious. His fingertips trail down her neck, and she closes her eyes at his touch.

Slowly, he removes his hook. Butterflies flood her stomach. He only ever removes his hook when...

And then, without warning, he scoops her from the chair and carries her up the stairs. He kicks their bedroom door open with his foot. When Emma mumbles something about the paintwork, he silences her with a kiss and drops her down on the bed. She hardly has time to catch her breath before he's over her, pressing warm kisses to her neck.

Operation Duckling is _on._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes** : _Okay, so after all the love I received for this, I thought how could I NOT do a Duckling Part 2, come ooooon?_ _In all seriousness, I didn't expect it to be so popular, so thank you. I'd never gotten so many notes or comments before, and anyone who is a writer will know how fulfilling and humbling it is for someone to read their story, let alone comment on it. So I will be eternally grateful. So thank you very much! 3_

 **Part Two**

"Killian…"

"Mm?"

"Killian, we have to go…"

"Mm~"

"Kill-" A soft gasp escapes her lips. " _Killian, my parents are waiting."_

"They've already waited a good ten minutes," he murmurs against her neck, flushed and warm. "Surely they can wait a little longer?"

Her head falls back against the wall, as his presses soft kisses down into the crook of her neck, where the skin is most sensitive. His hand, tangled in her mess of curls, gently pulls her head back. His other arm is trapped between her back and the wall, but he doesn't seem to mind.

They're stood in the passage (not that it's much of a passage, more like a big room). Emma made to leave fifteen minutes ago, but Killian seemed to have other ideas. And Emma can't help but fall for her pirate's charms.

"Or a few hours…" She can almost _hear_ the smile in his voice, the smug-

" _Hook_!"

He leaves hungry kisses along her collarbone, trailing down, down, down…

"Kill- _oh."_

His chuckle is muffled. Low. It takes all her strength to pull him back to her, but she manages it. Somehow she manages it. He simply quirks one eyebrow at her and flashes a smile. He's enjoying this, and it shows.

"Look, we have to go. It took me ages to do my make-up," she manages to get out once she's got her breath back.

"I know, love. It's a sin!" Suddenly his lips are at her neck again, and everything is a whirl of heat and red. She's debating caving, she really is. She's debating not going to this stupid meal thing, and it's all Killian's fault.

But she knows she has to. _They_ have to. And it's not just her parents who are already probably there, waiting for them.

"What about Regina?"

"Aye, Regina's beautiful, but surely you'd much rather be with _me?"_

"Come on. You know that's not what I- _Killian."_ Her eyes roll back into her head a little.

He kisses back up to ear. "Mm?"

" _Ten minutes."_ Her voice would be firm if she wasn't so breathless. "And then we have to go."

….

Half an hour later, Emma and Killian walk hand in hand to the restaurant. Everyone's waiting for them; Mary Margaret, David, Regina, Robin, Henry, Belle and (even though his lips are pressed together in a tight line) Gold.

The restaurant is cosy and much prettier than Granny's. Dim lamps light up the room and overall, it has a very atmospheric feel. Emma's stomach groans when the smell of food reaches her nose.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally showed up," Regina smirks, as they approach the table. "Captain Guyliner and the Saviour."

"What took you so long?" Mary Margaret scolds. She rises from her chair, and pulls Emma into a tight hug. The material of her cotton dress is warm and comforting.

"Car troubles," Emma explains, wrapping her arms around her mother in a fleeting grasp. She prays to every God out there that the lighting hides her blush.

"Maybe you should get that looked at," she mentions. And then she throws a huge grin in the direction of Killian. "C'mere."

He opens his arms, returning her grin with one of her own. Emma can't help a satisfied smile as they embrace. Ever since they returned from the Underworld, a warmth has grown in her parents where Killian is concerned, her mother especially. They seem to get on like a house on fire. Once or twice Emma has made her way down the stairs to find Mary Margaret sat in her kitchen, chatting away while Killian makes them both coffee. Last week, she caught David showing Killian how to use his new phone (he'd thrown the other one in the sea after finding out all the texts he sent to David were blank).

When they part, Mary Margaret sits back down again.

Ever the gentleman, Killian takes Emma's coat and drapes it over the back of her chair. She takes a seat and he pushes her towards the table, which receives an 'awww' from Mary Margaret. Once she's firmly tucked in, he takes his own seat and throws his own leather jacket off his shoulders.

"Hey, Killian. Hungry?" asks Belle, as she pushes a menu towards him.

"That I am," he laughs. "What about you?"

"Starving," she smiles, throwing her chestnut hair over her shoulder. "I'm really craving barbecue at the moment."

"Are you telling me the spawn of the Dark One _doesn't_ want to feast on toads and puppies?" Regina smirks from across the table.

"Those cravings only come later in life, dearie," Gold hisses back at Regina through gritted teeth.

Belle, however, doesn't seem bothered by the comment. She shrugs it off with a roll of her eyes and glances down her own menu, presumably at the barbecue dishes. Emma notices her skin has a beautiful sparkling quality.

It was only a few days ago that Belle announced her pregnancy to everyone in Granny's diner, a month after Emma's own little scare. The shock was felt amongst everyone, but no more so by Rumplestiltskin.

It was then he decided to come clean about being the Dark One again, and rightly so. That confession was met with a few arguments and a few days of silence, but Belle couldn't stay angry at him.

And now they seem as happy as ever, Emma thinks, as she watches them out the corner of her eye. Perhaps now he has a child on the way, he'll think twice about using his powers for evil. It will be interesting enough to see how long that lasts, but Emma's confident that something has changed about him. He doesn't seem as dark as he once was.

"How's the little one doing, Belle?" Snow asks, leaning across the table.

"Oh, they're not too bad actually," says Belle with a smile. "The morning sickness isn't too great, though."

"Tell me about it."

"Try dry toast," David offers, throwing his arm around the back of Mary Margaret's chair. "That's what we did. Helped loads, didn't it?"

"It did," Mary Margaret agrees. "Any try to relax as much as possible. Don't do too much. You'll be fine."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

Emma doesn't miss the affectionate smile she gives Gold, and his equally affectionate touch of her cheek. It takes her by surprise. Has she seen him be so gentle with her before? Certainly not in public. Is that what having a baby does to you?

She glances quickly over at Killian, and her mind can't help but wander. What would _he_ like? What _will_ he be like, she corrects herself. They're already actively trying. They have been for a few months now, but so far there's been nothing.

He's already suggested they go and talk to Whale to see if they can do anything to speed up the process, but Emma shudders whenever she thinks about it. She has a suspicion that as soon as Whale knows, so will everyone else. She'd much rather keep such private matters between herself and Killian, thank you very much.

Soon it's time to order. Emma chooses a double cheeseburger with extra toppings because she's worked so hard this week and she _deserves_ it. She orders a tall glass of cola to wash it down with. She'd kill for some alcohol, but she read somewhere to hold back on the drinks during the baby making process.

"Not drinking, Emma?" David comments when her cola arrives. He pours red wine into Mary Margaret's glass.

"I'm driving," she says without missing a beat. "I'd have to arrest myself."

"You should've gotten a cab!" He laughs, pouring Regina a glass.

Gold, however, regards her with narrowed eyes. "I do believe you can have a small glass and still drive, Miss Swan."

"That's true, I think," David says after a moment of a silence. "Though, I'm sure one's the maximum."

Killian is quick to come to her rescue. "Better to be safe than sorry, mate. Anyway, I can have Emma's glass."

She doesn't realise she's been holding her breath until she breathes out a sigh of relief. Her hand finds Killian's, and she gives it a squeeze in thanks.

"Great," Regina announces. "Let's give even _more_ alcohol to the one-handed Pirate who _already_ has a drinking problem."

"Hey!" He points his hook at her. "I resent that. I do _not_ have a drinking problem."

"Tell that to all the empty rum bottles in our recycling," Emma says with a teasing smile.

Laughter erupts from the table and even Gold chuckles a little. Emma's smile grows wider. The sense of community since they returned from the Underworld has only grown and strengthened. Ever since they worked together to save Hook, they've remained as a team. Even Gold hasn't done anything disastrous. Since Belle's baby, he's been nothing but soft.

When the meals arrive, the laughter dies down, but not completely. Little snippets of conversation happen here and there, and there's still a buzz circulating around the table.

She chats with Henry; asks him about school, about friends and how his day was. He confesses how everyone keeps hounding him for information about the Underworld. She's not surprised. She knows she'd probably do the same.

When the plates disappear and the dessert menus are placed in front of them, the conversation picks up again.

"So tell us about your baby," Mary Margaret demands of Belle. "Any names?" Her smile is glowing. Emma has the suspicion that she's been wanting to ask for a while, ever since they discussed morning sickness.

She can't help but notice Killian's head snap towards Belle, dark eyes trained on her. She has his full attention.

"Not yet."

"It's early days," Gold answers.

Belle's eyes meet Gold's. She smiles shyly. "I mean, we don't even know the gender yet."

"What're you hoping for, love?" Comes Killian's voice.

Everyone looks round at him. Emma knows what they're all thinking. Why is he interested? He doesn't seem like he should be. This is all girl talk, not swashbuckling Pirate talk.

"A boy," Belle says at the same time Gold says he wants a girl. "Oh," she gives a little laugh. "Well, I'll be happy with whichever. As long as they're healthy."

"That's all that matters," Killian agrees. And then he flashes a smile over at Emma. "So, I think I'll have the cheesecake."

…

At eleven, they finally make it back to their house. Emma kicks off her heels at the door, and hisses out a sigh at the relief. Killian makes his way into their dark home to turn lights on. (And the heating, hopefully.)

He returns, stripped of his leather jacket, and undoes the first few buttons of his shirt. "I'll tell you what, I'm shattered," he confesses, as he steps out of his boots. "Should we take a night off Operation Duckling?"

"Once again, a baby swan is _not_ a duckling," she sighs.

"Right you are. But Operation Cygnet doesn't sound quite so charming."

She has to agree. "I don't mind taking a night off."

"Excellent. To bed?"

"To bed."

The usual bedtime ritual takes place. He unzips the back of her dress, not without dancing his fingertips across her newly exposed skin. They change quickly, and take turns brushing their teeth and taking their makeup off. Emma's sick of scolding Killian for leaving eyeliner marks all over their white pillows.

Soon enough, they're both in bed, pulling the thick quilt up to their chins. They make out each other's bodies in the darkness, and shuffle closer to be together. Ever since the Underworld, they take every opportunity to be close to each other. It makes them feel safe.

And Emma _does_ feel safe, but there's something weighing down her chest now they're alone.

"Killian," Emma says to the darkness.

"Mm?"

A pause. And then: "Are you scared?"

"Scared of what, love?"

"Having a baby."

The silence is long and loud. After a while, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close.

"No," he says against her hair. It's firm - the type of firm that goes with the steely look that usually claims his eyes. "Are you?"

"...Yes."

His fingertips catch one of her waves. "Don't tell me it's the morning sickness," he murmurs. "Haven't you done that bit?"

"That's _why_ I'm afraid. I had Henry but I… didn't keep him. He was gone." She's unsure whether to continue. She's been harbouring these feelings for a while. Maybe it's best to get them out in the open. "In a way, it's like he was destined to go." She pauses, biting her lip.

"Emma…"

"Think about it. If I never gave him up, Regina would have never adopted him and he'd have never come back for me. I would have never gone to Storybrooke."

"You'd have gone to Storybrooke." This time his voice is gentle. "It was your destiny."

"Exactly. So what if me giving up Henry was out of my control?" She's met with silence and darkness for a while. "...Hook?"

His arms tighten around her. "If what you're saying is true, and you were meant to give Henry up - _truly_ meant to - then you have nothing to worry about. There isn't a curse this time. You wouldn't have to abandon our child."

Emma freezes in the darkness. Her breath catches. " _Abandon?"_

"No, Swan, that's not what I-"

"But that's what you said." She's pulling away, already wanting her space, but he resists, holding her closer still.

"You didn't abandon him, Emma. Poor wording on my part."

"But you're right. God, you're right." Her breathing comes faster. "What if he thinks I abandoned him? What if he _still_ thinks it?" It took her long enough forgive her parents for sending her through that magical wardrobe.

"Emma, don't do this to yourself."

"And now I'm _choosing_ to have another child. Another child who won't be abandoned or hurt, not like him. A child who won't have to wonder why I'd give them up."

"You're making the lights flash again. Calm down."

Hard, quick breathing. "How could I do that to him?"

"Bloody hell, _calm down."_

He sits up, and pulls her up with him. She can just make out his face in the blackness. Those dark brows are furrowed, those lips frowning. He places his hand against her face, warm and comforting without the cold metal of his rings. His touch calms her, and the lights stop turning on of their own accord.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"You can't know for sure he'd think that way."

Her eyes cast down as she speaks. "I thought the same thing after my parents had Neal."

"Talk to Henry," he suggests, stroking her face. "Talk to him and see how he feels. And remember, you can change your mind any time about having a child. We can stop this right now."

Emma's sigh is soft. He never fails to surprise her. The patience he has is overwhelming. The love that comes with that patience, even more so. He presses a tender kiss to her forehead. "Sleep now, love? Sail away into sweet dreams. You can talk to Henry in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay."

They fall back onto the soft pillows, and Killian's arms remain tightly around her. It's not too long until sleep claims her.

...

The next day, Emma decides to take Henry round the park and treat him to ice-cream. A hot sun beats down on them as they walk, and casts rays over the stream's surface. It's quiet for a Saturday, but Emma's glad of that. She wants a peaceful atmosphere when she talks to Henry.

She told him he could have anything he wanted, and so he ordered extra sprinkles and extra sauce. She's surprised it hasn't toppled over yet.

"Enjoying that?" She asks, tossing him a fond smile.

His response is a big grin, before he goes back to his ice-cream, catching a few droplets before they fall onto the grass. He's at his most content, and Emma suddenly has a feeling that the time is right.

"Listen, kid. I need to talk to you," she begins carefully, her stomach shifting uneasily.

He narrows his eyes slightly as he looks up into her face. "Okay?"

"Let's sit down."

They make their way over to a wooden bench which rests just in front of the river, and take a seat. They remain silent for a few moments. Emma watches the water sparkle as she gathers her words, and her courage.

"What is it, mom?" Henry asks when she doesn't speak. "You know you can tell me anything."

Her head snaps round to look at him. There's nothing but love and concern in those large eyes. No judgement. A small swelling of her heart pushes her forward, and she decides to be honest. Completely open. If she gets it out quickly, it's just like ripping off a band aid.

Right?

"How would you feel about a little brother? Or sister?"

His eyebrows furrow, as the the puzzle pieces fall together. "A… brother… or… sister?" he asks in a weak voice.

Her own gaze is calculating. "Yes."

Another moment of silence. Emma digs her nails into the palms of her hands, a flush rising to her cheeks. What is he thinking? Is he hurt? Betrayed? The quiet is _agonising_.

And then, a smile breaks out onto his face. "Can I babysit?"

A hand rests against her chest as she breaths out, shoulders untensing. "Sure, kid. Whenever you like."

"Are you…"

"No!" A breathless laugh. "No. But I wanted to speak to you… before. I wanted to be sure you were okay with it."

He goes back to finishing his ice-cream. There's a crunch as he bites into the cone. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just thought…" She shakes her head.

He scrutinises her for a moment, wide eyes studying her face. And then: "I don't think you abandoned me."

Emma blinks. Henry is so much better than she is. Such a kind, gentle soul. He's always quick to ease her worries. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again, not quite sure what to say.

"It was for a curse. It had to happen," he continues.

"Do you… really believe that?"

"Yeah. At least I think so. I mean, how else were you supposed to bring back the happy endings? And anyway, I wouldn't have Regina." He eyes dart over to hers, worriedly.

But Emma just smiles and ruffles his hair. She's long since accepted that Regina loves Henry just as much as _she_ does, and that Henry will love Regina as equally as he loves Emma. Regina may not have given birth to Henry, but she's still his mother. Henry provides unconditional love for her she hasn't felt in a long, long time. She knows Regina would _never_ let anything bad happen to Henry.

"Two moms. You're a lucky kid, huh?" She smiles.

"Yeah, I guess I am," his expression mirrors hers. "And I'll be even luckier to have a baby brother. Or sister."

She pulls him close into a tight hug, wrapping her arms all the way around him. He hugs her back, so that her chin rests on the top of his head. She can smell his apple shampoo and Regina's linen softener.

"You're a good kid," she tells him, pulling away.

"Good enough to get to name the baby?"

"Uh… we'll see about that."

They both laugh, and it echos all around the trees.

…

After their talk, she drops Henry off at Regina's, with the agreement that she can have him for the weekend. And then she parks her yellow bug at her own big, white house. The concrete crunches against her boots as she makes her way up the steps.

As soon as she opens the door, she's welcomed by the familiar sound of, "Swan!"

She glances up to see Killian leaning against one of the door frames, arms folded. He wears a navy shirt, half open for comfort. Or perhaps to be the death of her, who knows. His necklace dangles over it. She peels her red jacket from her body and kicks off her shoes, moving them next to Killian's with her foot.

"How did it go with Henry?"

She doesn't say anything, but simply looks up into his face. She must be an open book today, for the look in her eyes makes him swallow.

….

With Henry's approval, Emma Operation Duckling is ploughed full steam ahead.

They take every opportunity to dedicate time to the operation. She leaves work early, and they stay up late. They get up early on the mornings and shower together. And every time she thinks she's getting symptoms she takes a test, only to be disappointed.

"I don't get it. What are we doing wrong?" She complains, throwing the test in the bin.

"It takes time, love," Killian soothes her, with an easy smile. "Try not to worry about it too much."

She listens to his advice, and they decide to take a more relaxed approach, depending on where the mood takes them.

One day, it takes them quite suddenly.

They're sat on the sofa. Emma's knees are tucked under her and she flicks through channels on the television. Killian sits next to her, squinting at the box in amazement, even though he's seen it a million times before.

"How do they… do this?" he asks in wonder.

"I've told you." She rolls her eyes, but it's playful. "It's a camera."

Emma is more than sure Killian doesn't even know what a camera is, but he doesn't ask. Perhaps he doesn't want to seem stupid, but he never could to her. His lack of knowledge is adorable when she thinks about it. Only yesterday did she introduce him to an MP3 player. He sat for hours, eyes wide in horror or bewilderment as the music played directly to his ears.

"This… this is amazing. How people can create stories like this and watch them come to life."

She has to suppress a laugh. "It's the Jeremy Kyle Show USA."

"Aye, love. He's one hell of an actor."

This time, a giggle escapes her lips. "No, it's not a film. It's reality TV. It's real."

His head snaps over to hers. "What?"

"I love you," she blurts out before she can stop herself.

He tilts his head, and his lips curl into a soft smile. "I love you too."

And there it is. Something passes between him. What it is exactly, Emma can't put her finger on, but it's the type of something that makes her believe in twin flames and true loves. It's a something that makes her feel warm and fuzzy from the inside out. Perhaps it's the feeling that after so many years of believing no-one wanted her, she's finally found home. At last.

Maybe he's feeling it too, and maybe it's what compels him to move closer and gently stroke her cheek with his thumb. They look into each other's eyes for a moment, and there's no soul searching like in books and TV. Just two people, gazing at each other.

He's the first the break their gaze, but only briefly, to turn the TV off by the remote. That's the one thing he does remember to do, but God help him when he has to change the channel.

And then he's leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. It's so sweet, it almost breaks her heart. Soft and gentle like waves on open water. But it doesn't last long, and soon he's kissing her harder, for longer, and a storm begins to brew. In Emma? In Killian? Perhaps in both of them.

His one hand tangles in her hair, his other arm pulls her closer to him. They're close - almost _too_ close- and yet, not close enough. And suddenly she's pressed against the sofa on her back, gazing up at the ceiling. Killian leaves kisses along her jawline, and they burn more than usual.

The intensity is almost too much, but she's hanging in there. It's an intensity that makes her want to run and hide. She remembers feeling it a little with Neal, and sometimes she _did_ hide. She didn't feel it with Walsh. She _never_ felt it during her one-night stands. But with Killian…

She unbuttons his shirt. The movements are slow and clumsy but she manages it and together, they push the material off from his shoulders. He drops the shirt down beside the sofa and moves to kiss her again. His necklace dangles from his neck and she can feel the cool metal through the jumper. She hopes he'll leave it on. And his earring.

She sits up with him and he pulls her jumper over her head, revealing a vest top underneath. It's a struggle, and they both laugh as the stubborn material refuses to leave Emma's body. Eventually it does, and he's kissing her _again_. His stubble scratches against her throat as he takes full advantage of the newly exposed skin.

And then he's looking at her, staring down into her eyes. His own clouded over. Smouldering.

"Perhaps we should… move upstairs?" he suggests. His voice is low and dark and _doing things to her._

"Too late. Make love to me."

" _Emma_." Her name is a groan. He rests his forehead against hers for a moment. "If the lady insists."

His fingers curl under her vest top, stroking against the soft skin there. He wiggles his eyebrows as he inches it up, and she resists the urge to whack his shoulder.

And then his expression is more serious, and he looking at her like he's never seen the sun before. It's too intense, and she pulls him down to kiss her. He does so, slowly moving her vest top up her body. His rings are cold against her skin, but he'll remove them in good time.

"PIRATE."

And just like that, their bubble of passion pops. Both their heads snap across the room to the sound.

Her parents stand in the doorway. Mary Margaret's face is bright red; She's not quite sure what David's is, but she doesn't want to find out. Emma's heart is hammering in her chest, the blood in her ears. She looks back up at Killian with wide eyes.

She tries to think of a way to get out of it, a way to explain the situation, but her mind comes up blank. There is no other explanation. None at all. And so she chooses to defend herself by accusing.

"Mom? Dad? What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"We thought we'd pop round for coffee… And the door was unlocked… We can come back later," Mary Margaret squeaks. "Come on, David."

They didn't lock the damn door? They always lock the door!

David doesn't move. Instead, he shouts across the room in a voice like thunder, "GET OFF MY DAUGHTER."

"Whoa. Mate," Killian says. But he's quick to jump off Emma. As soon as she's free, she wriggles to the side of the sofa, thanking God that Killian only managed to shed her of her jumper. She tries not to think about how he had _his hand up her shirt._ She presses her own hand to her warm cheek.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?"

"Uh…" He scratches his head, looking over to Emma for help.

"David, it's alright," Emma says, hoping the use of his name will remind him she's getting onto thirty and not a teenager.

"NO. It's not." His eyes are bulging slightly from the sockets.

"David," Mary Margaret takes his arm, "They're just…"

He whirls around to face his wife. "What?"

Killian picks her shirt up from the floor and pulls it on. "C'mon, mate-"

" _I am not your mate."_

"I mean, did you think we were waiting for marriage?" He gives one of those relaxed, cocky grins and Emma has to suppress the urge to bury her face in her hands. Instead, she's watching David and he's looking at Killian like he's going to murder him on the spot.

"He just needs to calm down," Mary Margaret says, patting her husband on the arm. "Come on, David. They're not teenagers, let's go."

"I'm not finished-"

"We're going." Her voice is firm. "Now. Come on."

He points at Killian, face scrunched up in anger. "We're not finished, Pirate." Then he allows himself to be lead out, but still glares over his shoulder.

When they're gone, Emma drops her head into her hands, skin ablaze. "Why didn't they knock?"

"Maybe they did, love," Killian says. His voice has a certain tremor. "You were distracted. I'm not surprised you didn't hear."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He's grinning and it's infuriating because he _should_ be embarrassed, and hell, isn't _she_?

"I suggest we continue this upstairs," Killian suggests, voice dropping, clearly over it.

She's still embarrassed, but they had something good going on there. Something she wishes her parents didn't interrupt. With a roll of her eyes, she takes her Pirate's hand and follows him.

…

Then something terrible happens.

She hears it from Mary Margaret when she comes round for a hot chocolate. Her, Emma and Killian sit at the kitchen table, previously sipping from mugs. Now Emma stares down at her hot chocolate, a sick feeling churning in her stomach.

Out of all the bad things she expected, she didn't expect Belle to lose her baby.

"Have you seen her?" Emma asks, eyes fixed on her mug. She dare not look at Killian.

"Only once. She looks so sad." Mary Margaret's eyes are full of sorrow. "It's such a tragedy."

"And do you…" A swallow. "Know why?" Finally, she meets her mother's eyes.

"No-one knows why these things happen, Emma. They just do." She leans across the table and squeezes her daughter's hand. "All we can do is be there for Belle, but I think she'll be okay in time."

"And Gold?" Emma asks. "What about Gold?"

"He's the one who told me, actually." A little crease appears between her eyes as she frowns. "It was strange. There wasn't any of his usual sarcasm or self-righteousness."

"Aye, that doesn't surprise me," Comes Killian's voice from next to Emma. "Grief changes people. Especially the grief coming from mourning a child." His eyes flicker up to Emma's, dark and sad.

"Anyway, I should be off," Mary Margaret announces. She throws back the rest of her hot chocolate. "Thank you for the drink, it was lovely." She rises from her chair, and Killian mimics her.

Emma stays seated, staring at her hands wrapped around her hot chocolate, still half full. She feels numb. Perhaps mourning, because of Belle. Either way, she has an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Emma?" Killian asks softly when she doesn't move.

She comes to life, immediately rising from the table. She swipes up her mug and walks over to the kitchen sink, pouring the chocolate liquid down the plug. The mug is abandoned in the sink when she turns around to face her mother. "Thanks for coming over," she says, but the words feel foreign in her mouth.

"Thank you for having me." She's watching Emma with those careful, concerned eyes. "I'll see myself out. Goodbye Emma, Killian."

"Nonsense!" Killian declares. "I'll see you out."

He sends a concerned look over his shoulder at Emma before following her mother to the door There's a sound of goodbyes and a loud kiss on the cheek. Finally, Emma hears the door slam. She closes her eyes. No doubt Killian's going to try and talk to her.

Right on cue, he makes his way back into the kitchen. "What's going on, Emma?"

"Nothing," she mumbles, turning back around to face the sink. The water splashes as she turns it on and pops the plug in the plug hole.

"I know when you're lying to me. Don't think I don't," he warns, reaching for a tea towel. She wishes he'd just leave her in peace.

"Yeah. Well."

"It's about Belle, isn't it?"

A soft sigh escapes her lips. Of course it's about Belle. Who else could it be about? Belle's miscarriage has only reminded her of her fears, and suddenly she has the urge to stop Operation Duckling.

"Talk to me."

She presses her lips together in a tight line.

"Swan."

The water makes a satisfying sound as she dips the mug into it.

" _Emma_ _Swan_."

He places the tea towel on the draining board, and takes her by the shoulders. Gently, he turns her to face him, hands removed from the sink. Water drips on the floor. She has no choice but to look into his face, lined with worry.

"Talk to me," he repeats, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "C'mon, love. What else am I here for?"

She averts her eyes, wiping her hands dry on her jeans. "I don't think Operation Duckling is such a good idea."

She doesn't miss his sigh. "Because of Belle's…"

"See how easy it is to lose a child?"

He's already shaking his head. "Emma. You can't seriously be comparing us to Belle and Rumplestiltskin."

"Think about it," she pleads.

He releases her, and sinks into one of the kitchen chairs. "I _am_ thinking about it."

She waits, nervously playing with his ring around her neck. When he doesn't speak, she prompts him.

" _And_?"

"It's ridiculous."

She folds her arms over her torso. "No. It's not."

"Not everyone is the same," he tries to reason. "Just because one couple has such a… misfortune, it doesn't mean other couples will. That's like never sailing a ship because other ships have sunk."

"I don't just mean a miscarriage." Her voice is soft. Vulnerable. "I lost Henry, and it makes me wonder whether that was circumstances out of my control."

He rubs his hand across his forehead. "Emma, we've been through this. There is no bloody curse to take our child away from us."

" _No_ , but who's to say there isn't something else?" She takes a step forward, looking down at him. "We _never_ have a rest. There's always some crisis or wicked witch around the corner. David and Mary Margaret lost their baby. So did Zelena, and that was _my_ fault."

"Your parents had their child returned to them! Everything worked out in the end."

"In the end."

And that was her point. They were lucky to get her parents' baby back, but it could have gone either way. Zelena could have succeeded and they could have lost baby Neal for good.

"Emma…"

Suddenly she feels all her worries bubbling to the surface. Worries she kept hidden under lock and key, even to herself.

"I mean, come on. We haven't had one moment of happiness. Not _one._ What if we're not meant to have any happiness? What if that's the price of the Saviour?"

His eyes flash. "You're being irrational."

"Just _listen_ to me."

Swiftly, he rises from his seat and looms over her. She's close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest.

"You know I always listen to you, and I always support you. But this…"

A moment of silence passes between them. She fixes her eyes on his necklace, which rests against his shirt. The metal sparkles in the kitchen light. When she has the right words, she looks up at him again.

"You told me we can stop whenever we want."

He opens his mouth to speak, but promptly shuts it. She can see the confliction in his face; the way his lips press together, the way he grits his teeth.

"As you wish," he says without looking at her. And then he clenches his jaw, turns on his heel and storms out the house, slamming the door behind him.

Emma only breathes when he's gone, and falls down into one of the kitchen chairs, her head in her hands.

She doesn't know why Killian doesn't understand. He too has known pain, but he doesn't seem as closed off as her. Even now, she can feel her walls building again. It's like Belle has opened her eyes, and she can see clearer.

She's lost so many people time and time again. Henry, Walsh, Graham, Neal… Hell, she even lost her parents for twenty-eight years. Sure, she found them again, but by then it was almost too late.

Perhaps that's the price of the Saviour. To lose people for the sake of everyone else's happiness.

Emma doesn't know how long she sits there for, but Killian doesn't return. She glances up at the clock. Half past six. He's been gone a good few hours, and it makes her uneasy. But she knows he won't stay angry at her forever, no matter what she chooses.

Her eyes drift over to the calendar hanging from the peg next to the clock. It's a boat calendar. Full of images of the sea, waves and pirate ships. And then she spots the writing, in big red letters.

 **GET EMMA CHOCOLATE AND FLOWERS FOR MONTHLY OCCURRENCE.**

Well, he hasn't yet, so he must not have looked at the calendar.

That's when she realises, with a lurch of her heart. She's a few days late. Again.

Emma doesn't waste any time. She rises from the seat and makes her way into the bathroom. She tries to keep calm as she pulls a test from under the bathroom sink. Her hands tremble as she opens the box and shakes it out.

Her heart beats as she waits for the answer.

Her heart stops when she sees the result.

It's positive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: So I'd like to say thank you very much for all your support, it really means a lot! I've noticed in the comments, I keep getting asked about another part – so just a heads up, I'm gunna do six parts to this! I hope you like it, let me know what you think!**

When Emma told Killian she was having a baby, he was ecstatic. She's never seen his face light up as much as it did. He picked her up, and spun her around, unable to contain his joy. When he set her down, he held her so tightly to him, his hand pressed firmly against the back of her head. She had to remind him to let her breathe for a moment.

At first, she was worried. Terrified, even. She sat on the cold bathroom floor a whole hour, her head in her hands, tears spilling from her eyes. All she could think about was Belle and _her_ baby, and the suffering she must be going through.

But amidst that terror was an undeniable happiness, something she can't push away even if she tries. Walls can't keep out something that's already a part of you.

At least that's what she tells Killian as they sit on the sofa, curled around each other. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, two pairs of legs splayed out over the sofa. He holds her carefully, as if the lightest of touches might break her. His finger tips curl around her pale gold strands, as they usually do.

"When are we going to tell the others?" He murmurs into her hair. His voice is a soft rumble. There's a peace in it she's never noticed before, like the calm before a storm. She hopes that this time it's the calm _without_ the storm.

"I don't know."

The thought fills her with butterflies. Mary Margaret's face swims in front of her, and she has to bite her lip to stop a smile. Her mother will be not just over the moon, but so far above the moon, she won't be able to see the moon.

And David? What will her dad be like? After their last encounter, Emma isn't entirely sure. He might try and break Killian right on the spot.

" _How_ do we tell the others?" she continues after a moment.

"Well love, that's easy. We just come out with it."

"Just come out with it?"

She hasn't thought about that. She's thought about telling them with a big, grand gesture. She could bake them a cake and write it in frosting on the golden sponge. She could… she could… Well, she's not entirely sure. The thing is, big, grand gestures aren't really for her. They never have been. That's why she told Killian straight away without any fuss.

Not to mention telling them will make it real. It doesn't feel real yet. Apart from a missed period, she hasn't had any other symptoms or any signs to prove to her there's something inside her. It's almost as if there isn't a baby at all.

Of course she's being silly. There _is_ a baby. She's already been to an appointment with one of the doctors and has had it confirmed. She deliberately chose a day she knew Whale wasn't working so the rest of Storybrooke wouldn't find out. So far they haven't. She hasn't heard a peep out of them, except the odd comment about why she's not drinking.

Still, she would like to see some proof soon, even if that means all the horrible stuff like nausea and dizziness.

Noticing her sudden stillness, Killian moves to peer into her face. "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it all seems too simple."

"Aye." His lips twitch. "That it does."

She snuggles closer into him, sighing a little. Maybe it's supposed to be simple. Maybe just this once. God knows she deserves simplicity.

"We should keep it quiet for a while," she tells him after a moment of silence.

"If that's what you wish."

"That's what I wish."

…

They manage to keep it quiet for all of five minutes. Thanks to Killian's over-excitement, he almost lets it slip a few times, and so they decide it will be better to get it over and done with with. Rip the band-aid off quickly, as it were.

She knows Killian thinks they're silly for waiting to tell them. He's asked Emma why she's so afraid and honestly, she's not entirely sure. She thinks it has something to do with how she's the Saviour. Her job is supposed to be protecting people, not playing happy families. She's said it before, the price of the Saviour is never getting a day off. What if people don't think she's doing her job properly by having a baby?

It's a warm day when they decide to tell her parents. Sun streams from a cloudless sky, heating their backs as they walk along the path. Emma feels a little warmer than she should, and moths gnaw at her insides.

Killian strolls next to her, arms swinging loosely at his side, shoulders relaxed. He notices her wide, shining eyes and throws her an easy grin, something she can't quite return. Her shoulders remain rigid and her eyes fix on the dusty concrete as they walk. She doesn't want to think about how close the door to Granny's is, or her parents and Henry waiting eagerly inside.

When they reach the door, she pauses, hand frozen on the handle.

"... Swan?" comes Killian's voice.

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to. His eyes soften upon seeing her expression and a soft sigh escapes his lips. A moment of silence passes between them, where she stares up into his face and he stares back.

And then he breaks the silence, voice careful. "Do you know what struck me about you when I met you?"

She places her hands on her hips, regarding him with narrowed eyes. "What, we're reminiscing now?"

His own face is completely serious. "It was your courage. And the defiance in your eyes when we fought at that portal."

"Don't tell me that makes you hot."

He pulls her closer. "Part of me _knew_ at that portal."

"Knew what?" She studies his face. "...Have you been on the rum again?"

"That I was already yours. Hell, part of me even knew when we climbed that bloody beanstalk together."

A pink tinge rises to her cheeks as she tries to stop a small, embarrassed smile. "You're being oddly cryptic. What's your point?"

"That's what made you stand out for me, Emma." He tilts his head. " _Really_ stand out."

"When we were fighting at the portal?"

"When you didn't let anything best you." When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "You've fought snow queens and damned wicked witches and demons of all shapes and sizes. I didn't think telling your parents we're having a child would bring down Emma Swan."

"I'm not brought down. Try a little nervous."

He analyses her face for a moment, trying to work out whether she's telling the truth. She gives him a smile, trying to reassure him. When he's satisfied, he holds out a hand. "If that's all, let's go."

She takes his hand. "Let's go."

She pushes the door open. She swears she sees him inhale, and it causes a little relief. Ha! As much as he likes to pretend, she's not the only one who's nervous.

Emma expects her family to be sat there, waiting patiently, but what she doesn't expect is to have the whole of Storybrooke waiting too. That's exactly the sight they're greeted with.

It takes all Emma's strength not to turn around and go back outside.

"Emma! Killian!" Mary Margaret calls from the bar. She's sat with David, Henry and Regina.

Emma hisses out a breath. She'd only invited her parents and Henry. They must have invited Regina. Regina invited Robin. _Someone_ must have invited Grumpy and she knows for a fact that he's the reason the rest of the town has turned up. Damn dwarves.

Her eyes flicker over to Killian. He runs a hand over his face and she swears she hears him mutter a "bloody hell" under his breath.

"Emma," Regina greets her with her usual cat-like smile. "This is quite the party you've thrown."

 _It's not a party. It was supposed to be an intimate gathering,_ Emma wants to say. Instead she gives a shrug, a light smile and says, "Yeah well."

Regina raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth to speak but before she can, Henry appears beside her, as if from thin air.

"Mom!"

"Hey kid." She instantly brightens, pulling him into a tight hug. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he says once she's released him. His eyes are curious. "Grandma said you've got some news."

For a moment, Emma doesn't know what to say. She _has_ got some news but she certainly doesn't want to say it in front of all these people, especially the likes of the dwarves.

It's Killian who comes to her rescue. He releases her hand to rest it on her shoulder. "Aye, lad," he says. "That we do."

She doesn't miss the slight alarm on her son's face. " _We?_ "

"You'll find out soon enough." Then he leans down to Emma's ear, breath warm on her neck as he whispers, "No point beating around the bush. Am I right, love?"

She turns towards him. "But telling _all_ these people? I'm not sure if I can."

Killian shifts his hand to rub down her arm. "They'll all find out eventually, love. Surely it's better they hear it from us?"

She knows that he's right. She gives him a small smile in response.

"Emma!"

She whirls around to see David, watching her with a smile like melted honey. He must have forgotten about their last encounter. She notices Killian visibly deflate with relief out the corner of her eyes.

"Dad," she says before turning to Mary Margaret. "Mom. How are you doing?"

"Just fine, Emma. Just fine," she smiles. "So tell me, why have you gathered us all here? What's your news?"

"I think some drinks are in order first," Killian is quick to cut in. He gestures over to Granny with an affectionate smile.

"I like your thinking," comes David's voice. It holds nothing but warmth.

As Granny makes her way over to them, Emma tells Killian to order her a cola or a lemonade or something. She then casts her eyes around the diner, making note of who's there and who isn't.

Grumpy and the rest of the dwarves sit at one table. Of course, she hears Grumpy before she sees him, as he laughs and jokes with his friends. They seem to be doing shots, throwing back the little glasses every few minutes, Grumpy especially.

Distantly, she can hear Killian's voice: "A glass of your finest rum, if you will!"

Gold sits at a booth looking like he would rather be anywhere else, lips pressed together in a tight line, eyes resembling slits. Henry must have asked him to come, she realises. There's no sight of Belle anywhere. It's unlike her to miss a gathering, especially if Gold's there. An ache in Emma's chest makes itself known.

Even Whale's here. He sits at a table, his hand loosely clasped around his whiskey glass. He chats to one of the fairies, who's sipping what looks like cola. The other fairies are dispersed around the room.

The more Emma thinks about all these people, the bigger the lump gets in her throat. She reaches for Killian's hand again, and intertwines their fingers.

He gives her hand a gentle squeeze and she looks over at him. He releases her to pick up a tall glass of lemonade and hands it over. She takes a sip and the liquid is cold and refreshing, soothing her desert dry mouth.

"So Emma," Mary Margaret says, taking a sip of her own drink. "Why are we here? What's your news?"

" _Please_ don't tell me there's another wicked witch," says David. He's laughing, but Emma notes the seriousness behind his eyes.

"No nothing like that. Maybe a bit more scary but not really life threatening."

Killian drapes his arm with the hook around her shoulders. He uses his free hand to pick up his rum. "Something life changing, perhaps."

David narrows his eyes. "What's going on?"

Emma's mouth falls open like a goldfish. She's floundering again. She glances over at Killian for help, but he doesn't have a chance to say anything before they hear the chilling sound of metal hitting against glass. They all spin round to see Grumpy stood, a shot glass in his hand. He bangs his spoon violently against the glass.

"EVERYONE, EVERYONE," he shouts in his rough, boastful voice.

Emma winces a little. She notes how he sways on the spot. He must have had a lot to drink. She has to stop herself from slapping on her sheriff badge and escorting him out.

"I have an announcement!"

She resists rolling her eyes. _Seriously?_

"Well actually," He pauses. He sniggers. " _Emma_ has an announcement. That's why she's dragged us here, isn't it? And _I_ for one am sick of waiting." He raises his glass in Emma's direction. "Over to you, sister."

Emma's mouth goes dry. Suddenly there are about twenty pairs of eyes, all trained on her. _What the hell, Grumpy?_ she thinks. She doesn't want to be put on the spot like this. She was already psyching herself up to tell them, but she was sure she wasn't going to tell _anyone_ straight away.

Now she definitely knows she's going to arrest Grumpy.

"W-well, um. Uh." A pause. She tries to swallow. "Well, actually it's about. We're… we are… we, uh…"

"Swan and I, we're having a baby," Killian announces, saving her from her floundering. His voice is all confidence, his grin glowing.

First, they're met with a hair-raising silence that makes Emma want to run from the room (dragging Grumpy out, kicking and screaming with her). And then, as the shock wears off, the diner slowly comes back to life. Noise builds up and people are running up to them, congratulating them. Mary Margaret gets to her first, wrapping her arms tightly around her. "Congratulations Emma," she whispers in her ear.

Emma pulls back to look her in the face. Her eyes are all sparkly and within seconds, the tears are falling down her face.

"Oh, here I go," she mutters, laughing, wiping the tears away. Emma hands her mother a napkin from the counter. She dabs at her eyes.

When she turns to Killian, the tears make a reappearance. She pulls him into a hug a little too violently. He winks at Emma over her shoulder as he pats her back.

They break apart when David approaches, arms folded. Killian and her father stare at each other for a moment, tension all around. And then his face breaks out into a big fatherly smile, and he opens his arms as wide as he can, almost accidentally hitting Henry in the face.

"Come here, mate."

They embrace and David mutters incoherent ramblings as he smacks Killian on the back.

With a sigh of relief, Emma turns towards Henry, who's watching her with a smile on his face. "This is great news, Mom," he says. "I'm gunna be a big brother."

She ruffles his hair. "You're gunna be the best big brother ever."

She hugs him (even though it feels like like all she's _done_ is hug since she arrived), full of relief, love and warmth. They're still hugging when Regina approaches.

"Well well well. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Thank you Regina," Emma says, but gives her a look.

"I look forward to being the favourite Godmother."

Emma's about to argue but Regina saunters off, throwing a wide smile over her shoulder.

Emma gulps down some of her lemonade, wishing she could have something stronger to take the edge off. She glances over at Killian, who seems to be enjoying all the attention. The dwarves, David and Mary Margaret surround him, and he chats happily. When he catches her watching him, he winks at her again.

She's only allowed one moment of peace before there's a tap on her shoulder. She turns around to see Doctor Whale waiting with a smirk.

"Emma Swan," he greets, his expression growing. He raises his glass to her and then to his lips.

"Whale," she says, folding her arms.

"Congratulations. For both you and Hook."

"Thanks."

"You know, I think it's time for you to book an appointment with me." He leans against the counter, oozing arrogance.

"Yeah."

The thing is, Emma _knows_ she needs to book an appointment with him as soon as possible, but she's not sure she wants to. Isn't he Frankenstein? The mad scientist who created a monster? Part of her recoils at the thought of him being her doctor.

"Just give me a ring tomorrow morning and we can sort something out. Book your first sonogram, things like that."

"Sounds good." She watches him as he sips whisky like they're the waters of heaven.

"I will provide only the best for the Saviour." He pauses and purses his lips. "Hopefully no one will steal the baby this time."

Emma can't help a small laugh at that. Poor Whale. He doesn't have the best track record when it comes to delivering babies. "Trust me, no-one's going to steal my baby." She would kick their ass, just like she's done everyone else's.

"Glad to hear it. I'll see you soon, Emma." He raises his glass to her once more before departing.

She's barely alone a moment before Killian's voice is whispering in her ear, his hand resting on her waist. "Your father seems rather intent on asking me how good I am with children."

She turns to face him, a smile on her lips. "He's just being a dad. I'm sure he thinks you'll make a great father."

His grin drops, replacing the light in his eyes with seriousness. "Is that what you think, Swan?"

"That's what I know."

The night goes on much like that. There is laughter, a few tears (mostly from her mother) and many jokes at the expense of Hook trying to change a baby with one hand. After a while, the knot in Emma's chest loosens and she wonders why she was even worried in the first place. Everyone is happy for them, and they're greeted with nothing but smiles.

A few hours in, David calls for quiet. The room falls silent. He takes his glass and raises it towards them. "To Emma and Hook," he says, with one of those smiles that could kill all the evil in the world.

"To Emma and Hook," everyone murmurs at the same time.

Emma thinks that's it and he's going to sit down, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Instead he remains standing, though barely. The pink in his cheeks tell her he's a little more than merry.

"Y'know, at first I didn't like Hook," he announces in a slur. "I didn't like you mate, did I?"

Killian is nothing but smiles. "You didn't, mate. You didn't."

"I thought he was a good for nothing pirate who was only after one thing. Emma's-"

"DAVID," Comes Mary Margaret's voice. Laughter echoes around the room.

"And our happiness. And our legacy. And all our money. Actually, that's three things. I mean four." He shakes his head. "Anyway, that's not the point. The _point_ is you proved me wrong, Pirate."

Killian leans against the counter, raising one eyebrow. "Did I?"

"I don't think I've ever been more wrong in my whole life. And now… you're my mate. You're my mate, Hook." Liquid topples over the side of the glass as he raises it again, high above his head. "TO EMMA AND HOOK."

Mary Margaret is at his side in an instant. "You've already said that, dear," she says as she takes his drink from him and steers him to one of the booths. There's a round of applause as she pushes him down. The crowd starts to pick up again.

"I think we should go before I have to arrest my own father," says Emma, turning away from her parents.

Killian's expression is amused. "Aye, I agree. Do you think we can slip out without anyone noticing?"

"Maybe." She smiles as she takes his hand. "But maybe we should say goodbyes. It's the right thing to do."

And they _do_ say their goodbyes, making it as fleeting as possible. Killian steers Emma out, waving with his Hook, mumbling some rubbish about being dreadfully tired.

It's only when they're out in the cool night air does Emma realise Gold hadn't been there the whole time. He must have left shortly after their announcement. She tries not to let that trouble her as they make their way back to their house.

…

Killians kisses are light, and they cover her skin like soft little raindrops. He's usually gentle, but he's being gentler than usual. They're laid on the bed, but he's hardly touching her, barely grazing his fingertips over her skin.

"You're not going to hurt the baby, Killian," she tells him as she catches his hand. He brings hers up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against her palm.

"I know, love," he says. "I can't help it."

Maybe he's not being gentle because he's afraid to hurt their child. Perhaps he's being gentle because it's more loving, more intimate. He's been even more affectionate than usual since she told him.

His fingertips trace along her side, up until they're creeping along the hem of her pyjama top. "May I?" he asks, always the gentleman.

"Knock yourself out."

He places his hand just under the material, on her flat stomach. He hasn't taken his rings off yet and she wriggles a little at the cold, but she soon gets used to it. His eyes burn into hers.

"I never believed I was truly deserving of this," he admits, eyes leaving hers for the briefest second. "All the things I've done…" He shakes his head. "My happy ending felt like a distant dream. Like I was sailing towards it, but not getting any closer."

"You deserve your happy ending as much as any hero," she says.

"Aye. I think I'm finally starting to believe it." He traces his fingertips over the skin of her stomach. "I promise to be the father this little sailor deserves. And I will love no-one else more than she."

Emma smiles, warmth filling her body. All she can think is that there will be no child loved more. Then his words finally sink in. "Hang on… _she_?"

"I have a feeling."

"You think they're a she?"

"Well, Swan, it's a fifty fifty chance, no?"

"Yeah." She frowns. "But why do you think she's a she?"

"Instinct," he smiles. "Just instinct."

She can't help but notice the light in his eyes. She hasn't seen him happier. Not ever. After all they've been through, they're finally getting their piece of perfection. Just two lost souls who have finally found happiness. There's an unspoken agreement that their child will never suffer like they have. _Never._

They drift off to sleep like that, Emma curled up to Killian, his hand resting against the smooth skin of her stomach. In the end, he forgets to take off his rings but she doesn't mind, especially when he pulls her closer as he dreams. For the first time in a while, sleep claims Emma while she has a smile on her face.

…

One day Emma runs into Belle. She's whirling up the path to Granny's, in desperate need of a grilled cheese and onion rings, when she collides with her walking out the door.

"Gosh, sorry!" comes Belle's voice, and they both collect their bearings.

"Belle," Emma says in surprise. She hasn't seen her in a long time, not since she heard the news from Mary Margaret.

She's as lovely as ever. Long, chestnut hair falls over her shoulders in glossy waves. Belle always reminds Emma of a doll, but not in a bad way. It's that pretty porcelain face, always smiling, no matter what she's going through. She smiles now, but Emma doesn't miss the dark bruises under her eyes.

"Emma," Belle says, equally in surprise. A soft smile crosses her face. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"How do you-"

"Rumple told me," she says quickly. "I'm happy for you. Really." She gives another one of those smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, must be off. I'm supposed to be minding the shop."

She steps around Emma and begins to make her way down the path. Emma watches her for a moment before she calls after her. "Hey, Belle."

The woman turns, mouth falling open a little. "Yes?"

A few strides and Emma is in front of her again. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says rapidly. It should have been the first thing she said, and there's guilt ebbing away at her soul.

Belle's smile is a little sad this time. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. And Rumple, I'm sure."

"After everything you've been through, you didn't deserve this."

"The world works in mysterious ways," Belle says. Emma's embarrassed to see the other woman's eyes glassing over, filling with unshed tears. "It's still sore, but I'll be fine. We both will."

"You will," Emma says, firmly. She too has known loss, terrible loss. She has watched _so_ many people die, and not been able to do anything about it, but time heals. As cliche as it sounds, time heals almost anything.

"I wish you," she says suddenly, taking Emma's hands in both of her own. " _Every_ happiness with this child." Her voice has a steely quality.

Emma blinks, taken back. "Thank you." Her hands are limp in Belle's.

As quickly as her grasp was there, it's gone, and she's putting distance between them. "I'll see you around, Emma. Let me know how everything's going, okay?"

"Okay," she says, a little weakly. This time she watches Belle walk down the path and doesn't stop her. She walks into Granny's in a daze.


End file.
